Sitting place
fields receive me
though I understand
only a piece of the world
a well an idle heart
but I have been alone
here at the present
infinite spot
Contemplative poems
Contemplative poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
The voices
all alone I am them
to see and sit
with a town
doing much in me
Ridge lines
up on the ridge
walking alone in the dark
my quiet hips
Self examination
to see what little I am
to see an absent satisfaction
close to the dirt
to see inside a machine
to see what things
make a man himself
to see how fine the machines are
to see me wanting like a bad king
to possess death
Contemplative
in a pit I sit and think
backward as water
how they measure and take
a counterfeit pleasure
how all nature
is not quite conquered yet
how music and women
give us being
Fronting
fresh bling as false
as a street of canvas
pretty is the simplest
look I took to
so I consider the picture
that shall master me
Heretic
the sages in my head
trouble me
and my books are ice
evening brought
an absence as old
as a horse in the rain
Born-again naturalists
we are not ourselves
in a field
but taken prisoner we find
a green page to retreat to
touching an abstract ground
like oaks engaged
with the night
Swamp
alder
at the water
down where I had not been
since the place has grown natural
a bit of rainbow
maimed as a dead leg
Bookwormhole
entering my book
where to be gone to
who among others to love
in their poor varnish
how to see at night
Body builder
body built of water
which hand is first hand
water built of ice
and a little quiet
Going with the flow
the river is my mind
night and day business not yet done
picture a hill
picture a frame for the picture
of my itch
of a life
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